


Deal with it

by fakebodies



Category: Aliens (1986)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hicks is there and he helps, Hudson has a shitty first drop and panics but it's ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 09:36:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13097352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakebodies/pseuds/fakebodies
Summary: Hudson's first drop goes to hell- they get back to the Sulaco alive, but that doesn't do much to calm him down. At least he's not panicking on his own.





	Deal with it

“Breathe, Hudson, come on.”

Hicks is holding his shoulders, but Hudson isn’t fucking there. He’s on the drop ship, when it fucking exploded, when shrapnel impaled Bishop and sliced open Wierzbowski. He’s fucking there, he sees it, his ears are ringing, he’s fucking panicking- he can’t breathe. Christ, he can’t fucking breathe, he can’t open his eyes, Wierzbowski is bleeding everywhere and he can smell it but he can’t fucking see-

“Hudson. Look at me.” Hicks gives Hudson’s shoulders a gentle shake, voice firm. “I need you to breathe with me. Easy, in and out. Take it slow.”

Hudson’s eyes snap open, filling with tears as soon as they meet Hicks’.

“Oh god-” Hudson manages to croak before he’s slumping forward, clutching Hicks’ shirt and sobbing. His shoulders shake as Hicks gathers him into a hug, slowly rocking back and forth on the floor.

“It’s okay, come on. It’s okay.” Hicks keeps repeating, smoothing Hudson’s short hair and letting him cry. Hudson may be older but Hicks still outranks him, and Hicks sure as hell hasn’t forgotten what it’s like to see one of your brothers get torn up, even if they come out okay. It’s goddamn horrifying, not a good first drop for the private.

Hicks had steered Hudson into an empty room as soon as they’d gotten back to the Sulaco, following Hudson to the floor as he’d dropped to his knees, his whole body shaking. Hicks’d seen this coming as soon as he saw the way Hudson gripped his gun so hard his knuckles turned white. First drops were supposed to go smoothly, not end up with your synthetic almost torn in half and a friend bleeding heavily, unconscious in his seat. It wasn’t pretty, in any sense.

Hudson’s trembling eases after a while, his sobs turning into hiccups and shuddering breaths. Hicks keeps holding him, feeling Hudson’s death grip on the front of his shirt release, Hudson sliding his arms around him.

“Hicks…”

“I’m here.” Hicks nods, squeezing Hudson’s shoulder.

“No one fucking said-”

“I know. No one ever does.” Hicks offers a small, tired smirk. “It never goes how it’s supposed to.”

“So what the hell do we do?” Hudson asks, sounding exhausted. He presses his forehead to Hicks’ shoulder and Hicks goes back to petting his hair.

“We deal with it.”

“Deal with it?”

“Yeah, deal with it.” Hicks nods. “It’s all we can do. Why do you think Drake and Vasquez fuck so much?”

“Why?” Hudson asks, too tired to put on the disgusted tone he’d normally use.

“It’s their way of dealing. Releases tension, keeps them from biting everyone’s heads off, helps them sleep through the night and keeps them frosty for the next drop. Same reason Sarge goes through so many cigars and Spunkmeyer fixes the same shit twenty-seven times. It’s how they cope.”

“How do you cope?” Hudson asks, glancing at Hicks. Hicks squeezes Hudson’s shoulder and shrugs.

“I scrub myself clean, find Bishop, and I talk. It’s what I’ve done since the day I joined up here. Bishop’s one hell of an artificial person.”

“Yeah? That shit really helps?”

“Yeah, it does. Maybe not for Frost or Dietrich, but for me? Works wonders.” Hicks nods.

“I’m not really the talking type, man…” Hudson frowns. He still hasn’t let go of Hicks, so Hicks just shrugs and wraps his arms back around Hudson’s shoulders.

“That’s fine. I’m here for you until you figure out what does work.”

“Really?” Hudson looks up at him, scrubbing a hand over his eyes, his other hand still holding the back of Hicks’ shirt. You won’t hear Hicks complain about Hudson being clingy, though- tough as they all are, sometimes you still need to be close to someone human. He gets it. He combs his fingers through Hudson’s hair until it’s spiked back up and nods.

“Yeah, really. Don’t let the cool exterior fool you, I do give a shit.” Hicks smiles. Hudson laughs a little at that, nodding.

“Thanks, man...”

“Any time.”


End file.
